


Bad Habits

by altrojunkie



Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations
Genre: Drug Use, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-16 12:52:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17550032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altrojunkie/pseuds/altrojunkie
Summary: Sarada runs into Kawaki and his bad habits. And bad habits die hard, don't they?





	Bad Habits

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by my friend Kiara!  
> Also, this is my first time writing KawaSara, they're about 21 here!

Sarada doesn’t think about it the first time she returns home from a date with Kawaki. Their ‘date’ wasn’t even a real date, nothing fancy, no dinner, just Sarada running into him into the corner store on her way home from work. However, spending time with Kawaki means spending time surrounded by cigarette smoke. When she ran into him, he’d been buying a pack of cigs and a bottle of vodka without noticing her at first. She’d called out to him, as he’d been turning the bottle of liquor in his hands with thoughtful eyes, but carefully not to startle him. She didn’t want him to drop the bottle.

“I didn’t see you,” he told her without her asking. Anybody else who wasn’t used to Kawaki’s behavior might have felt insulted, but to Sarada is aloof personality wasn’t new. She knows him well enough not to take everything he says to heart.

“Yeah, I’m just on my way back home from work,” she explained, “It was a long day.” She held up the items in her hands – a sandwich filled with tonkatsu and salad and a can of Calpis. When Kawaki didn’t say anything further, she tacked on. “I see you’re buying alcohol, yes? I take it some of the boys are coming over to your place?”

“Nah, it’s just for me.”

Oh, she thought but didn’t know what to say from there on. Kawaki’s unhealthy habits weren’t new for her, she’s spent enough time with Boruto to understand that. Boruto and his foster brother had been 13 and 15 respectively when the latter arrived home high. Kawaki hadn’t just took a drag on a cigarette, but a joint, his red eyes had been proof for that. Naruto had been mad, Hinata mostly just concerned. Concerned what caused Kawaki to take up drugs, concerned that Boruto and Himawari would do it too. Good for Hinata, that worry never became true. Boruto grew to loathe drugs, whereas Himawari was like sunshine, too kind and good to get tangled up in anything bad.

So no, it didn’t surprise Sarada that the boy would buy himself a bottle of vodka, but it still made her sad. Who likes drinking alcohol alone by themselves? 

_Lonely people._

“Say…” she began and leaned closer with a gentle smile on her lips, “If I brought my own alcohol and my own snacks, would I be an unwelcome guest in your home tonight?”

His head didn’t even move in her direction as he silently kept his eyes on the row of bottles, all filled with liquor of all kinds. “Do you even like alcohol?” he asked her. “Last I know, you’re daddy’s little girl who doesn’t mingle with the bad boys.”

“Hey, I do like alcohol. I may not like pure vodka, but I do have a certain taste for liquor,” she scoffed. “I happen to like plum wine just fine.”

“Plum wine?” His voice wasn’t loud, but she could hear him disapproving of her choice of alcohol. “You’re not going to drink plum wine at my place.”

Sarada tried very hard not to let her surprise show, but that he’d been alright with her visiting him hadn’t been what she expected. In the end, Kawaki had taken another bottle of rum with him, just for her, because he didn’t want to let her drink plum wine.

His home was curiously impersonal. When he had moved out of the Uzumaki home to go to college, Hinata put up a few ornaments in the apartment to make it look homely, but Kawaki couldn’t have cared less for it. Now the apartment wasn’t unclean, but his shoes were scattered over the ground, there were empty beer cans all over the kitchen counter and an ashtray filled with ash and dirt in the living room. There was a joint next to it, unlit, and Sarada had expected him to smoke it while she was there.

He’d only puffed on his cigarettes though.

Now that she is home, the scent of smoke comes off all her clothes, even her hair, and taking a shower and putting on a different sets of clothes doesn’t erase the smell in the air. Chocho comes out to ask her where she has been and why she is home so late – she stops dead in Sarada’s room, with a scrunched up nose and disapproving facial expression.

“Oh, girl, please don’t tell me you started smoking. I don’t want to share my dorm with someone who smokes!” she exclaims as she looks at her friend.

“No, don’t worry, I wasn’t the one smoking,” Sarada says, trying to calm her down.

“Oh?” Chocho quipped. “Who was smoking then?”

“Kawaki.”

It’s not often that Chocho disapproves of a boy so much. Normally, Chocho is delighted when Sarada talks about any boy – she firmly believes Sarada spends too much time with her nose in books, too occupied to take full advantage of her college life. Going out to bars, the movies, concerts with dates.

Kawaki is a different story though, mostly because of his cold behavior towards outsiders. Plus, his bad habits add up to everything and that results in Chocho’s dislike of him. In their inner social circle, there isn’t another boy she would have preferred less to spend time with Sarada.

“Oh, Sarada, why were you spending time with him? Did you…guys have a date? A real date?” Chocho questions with her hand waving in front of her nose to get rid of the nasty smell.

“If you think eating a sandwich and watching him smoke counts as a date, then yes.”

“Oh, no, that is not a date. A date is when you call someone and you put on nice clothes. That is a date! You two just hung out.”

“Alright, we hung out then,” Sarada replies. Hanging out with Kawaki had been less exciting than she had expected it to be, so she cannot call it a date. It’d been mostly them drinking, him smoking while she ate her sandwich and talked about her day. Nothing fun or exciting, and yet it’s the highlight of her day.

“If you ever hang out with him again, get rid of the smell before you come here, please!” Chocho tells her before leaving her alone again.

Sarada wants to tell her that no one can make Kawaki drop his bad habits.

* * *

Days later, Sarada is about to cross the street on her way from class and on her way to work. Her day has been stressful enough with two exams, one following the other. With the first one she has a good feeling, she probably aced that one, but the second one went worse and she cannot judge herself properly. With an angry huff, she blows a strand of hair out of her face and looks up.

At the other side of the street is a dark figure on a motorcycle and the person is watching her. Her instincts tell her to avoid staring at the man, but curiosity takes over and she peeks at him again. He’s tall, broad shoulders covered with a leather jacket – and he’s starting his motorcycle. It comes to life with a roar and it takes him a swift curve to pull up next to her. He looks at her through his helmet and she realizes – this is not a stranger but Kawaki, with his brow piercing and dark stare. Maybe he is only wearing some sort of protective padding beneath his leather jacket and that is why his shoulders appear so broad, bigger than usual.

She gives him an easy smile.

“Do you need directions?” she asks him with a grin. Seeing him again is more entertaining to her than it should have been.

“No. You’re on your way to work. Get on.” It’s not a request, but not a demand either, at least that’s what Sarada sees it as when he talks to her. She knows him well enough to understand that this is an offer that she can take or leave – and she wants to take it, she does.

With all his bad behavior, Sarada knows that Kawaki has never been known to be an unsafe driver and she can only hope that he’s neither high nor drunk. She takes the second helmet that Kawaki offers her and after putting it on with fumbling hands, gets on the bike and embraces him tightly with her arms around his waist. He smells of smoke, but also of leather and after shave. Maybe Chocho won’t be able to sniff him off of her tonight if everything goes well.

Traffic doesn’t allow them to race at high speeds through the streets, but it’s enough to get her to work 30 minutes early.

He lets her off in a narrow street next to the library that she works part time at. Her hair is a bit tousled and she frantically brushes through it with her fingers, but Kawaki’s hair is fluffier than usual. He doesn’t seem to mind or notice it himself though.

“Thank you for the ride, I’m here 30 minutes too early now.”

He only nods before taking out a cigarette from the pocket of his jacket. A quick jerk on the lighter and he’s smoking while keeping his eyes on her. Sarada wishes he wouldn’t have started, but she’s in no place to tell him anything.

“What were you doing there anyway? Are you going somewhere yourself?” Sarada inquires.

“Just wanted to go for a quick ride. Had nothing better to do,” he replies casually.

Feeling a bit hopeful, she asks, “Will you still be free when I get off from work?”

“When will you get off?”

“At around 6.”

Kawaki doesn’t reply, just nods and blows away some more smoke, his head pointedly turned away from her. The smoke doesn’t reach her. She bids him farewell and heads towards work before she can hear the engine of his motorcycle coming to life once more.

And he’s there, hours later, just like he said he would be. Sitting on his motorcycle, its engine running a cigarette between his lips. When Sarada approaches him, he throws it away. She takes the helmet he offers her without words and gets on behind him, her hands holding onto his waist.

This time traffic is less dense and he can race through the streets, Sarada needs to hold onto him more tight. She doesn’t want to fall down, nor does she want to let go. Even through the fabric of his jacket, she can sense his body’s heat, the way his muscles move when he leans into the curves. His abdomen tightens when he goes fast and becomes loose again when they wait at a red light.

He either doesn’t notice Sarada’s hands on his stomach, or he does and he doesn’t care. Either way, she lets go of him when they stop at her place and hops down from the bike. Looking back at Kawaki in his leather, the helmet and on the huge motorcycle, he makes an impressive figure.

“Thanks for driving me!” she laughs. “I am home so much earlier now.”

He nods, but doesn’t say anything. He’s always so quiet.

“Do you want to come in? Or are you busy tonight?”

It takes Kawaki so long to react to her question, she’s sure he didn’t hear her. But with a quick jerk he kills the engine and gets down from the bike. His hair is all tousled and dark and even if Sarada doesn’t say it, it looks good on him.

She makes the way forward, opening the front door and holding it open for him. Once inside, she explains the layout of the dorm to him. “Over there is the bath, at the end of the hall there is Chocho’s room – you better not go in there, she’d be mad – and over there is my room,” she adds with pink cheeks. Being alone with Kawaki in her bedroom has its implications.

“And over there is the door to the balcony, if you want to smoke.”

“Nah, not right now,” is his only reply.

How odd, Sarada thinks. The Kawaki she knows doesn’t miss a minute of smoking. Another memory from today makes its way into her mind again; when he was smoking after dropping her off, he made a point to blow the smoke away from her. And he hadn’t been smoking at all when he had come to pick her up.

She doesn’t mention it though, because it also may just be in her head. So she puts leftovers into the microwave and the two of them eat with occasional comments coming from Sarada.

At about 8 pm, Sarada decides that Kawaki needs to leave because Chocho might return any minute now.

“Thank you for bringing me to work today – and for bringing me home too,” she whispers and it’s the first time today that he gives her an expression other than his neutrally bored face.

“No problem,” he retorts and the his mouth gives off the faintest hint of a smirk. “I had nothing better to do anyway.”

“Yeah, I know you told me so already,” Sarada pouts. “Saying things like that isn’t very nice, you know?”

This time, he smirks properly. Kawaki leans in and his lips brush past Sarada’s within a heartbeat. He’s surprisingly soft, no stubble on his chin as far as she can make out – so he must have shaved today. Despite his cool demeanor, Sarada feels hot all over, her heart beating in her chest with a frantic rhythm.

She doesn’t get a second kiss that evening. He leaves right after that and she watches his motorcycle disappear into the traffic on his way downtown.

This time, when Chocho returns home, she doesn’t complain about his smell, and neither can Sarada anymore.


End file.
